


The Southern Healer

by NotATorontonian (TheLifeAndLiesOfFerns)



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Death, F/M, Folklore, Medicine, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24870376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLifeAndLiesOfFerns/pseuds/NotATorontonian
Summary: A legend is told for generations in the Southern Water Tribe about Death's godchild.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 80





	The Southern Healer

Once upon a time, a particularly harsh winter came down upon the people of the Southern shores. The winds blew unfortunate animals off glaciers and fish froze solid in the water.

The people of the region starved, huddling each other for warmth and protection, hoping to save as much of themselves from the frost and the insanity. Yet, the hunger and the cold drove many a good person to the throes of the Spirit World.

On the night of Yule, there was the harshest snowstorm yet to befall the tribe. In the darkness, with the hollowing winds, the chieftess screamed in pain of labour.

The chief, forbidden to remain in the hut while his child was not yet born, left running.

In the dark tundra, he fell to his knees. Suddenly, the winds calmed and two figures appeared to his sides. They were the Ocean and the Moon.

The two Spirits came to the chief offering to be the godparents of the child that would be born.

“I will feed your child.” The Ocean said. “With me, their hunts will always succeed and their pantry will always be plentiful.”

“I will grant them power.” The Moon countered. “With me, their chi will always flow and their enemies will always tremble.”

The Chief denied both their offers. “The Spirits are inconstant and selfish. They give and they take, and they pick and they chose. My child will be fair and equative, selfless and giving.”

Then, Death appeared.

“You, who comes for all, rich or poor, young or old, man or woman. Who gives and takes in equal measures, that is constant and eternal.” The Chief recognized in respect. “Will you bless my child?”

“I will teach your child.” Death said. “With me, they will know plenty and lack, power and weakness. Their wit will be their saving grace, and their justice will be their gift.”

“I gift them to you.” The Chief said and the covenant was sealed.

Death closed its bony hands on the man’s wrist and proclaimed: “I will not return for sixteen winters. When I do, your child will know my gift, and our accord will be complete.”

And so it was, for fifteen winters, there was no deaths in the tribe. No warrior was lost, no woman befell of illness. No mother perished and no child was denied light. The seasons were mild and the hunts were plentiful.

On the sixteenth, the snowstorm returned, and it came with a vengeance, claiming lives back and forth. In despair, the child ran to the tundra.

There, Death came to her.

“You, the master of all ends, the bringer of grief and relief, the darkness and the light.” She says, kneeling in front of the figure. “What is your business with our tribe?”

“For sixteen summers and fifteen winters, I have not visited the South Pole, but the time has come. I am never gone, only delayed, and their time has come. So, does yours.”

The dark creature hands the girl a canteen. “A poultice, made of the purest essence of life, capable of healing any illness or injury, as soon as it makes contact with the body of animal or man. It lays encased in this bottle. It is replenishing, use it in as many or as few people as you desire.

“There is only but a single limitation, as it must be administered with the patient laying down. If I stand by their feet, it is not their time, and you can heal with abandon, but if I stand by their head, I have already claimed their soul, and it shall be nothing for you to do.”

The healer anointed, Death leaves and the snowstorm subsided once more. She walked to the village, and began testing her newfound powers. Sure enough, she began seeing her godparent on the beds of every patient.

She bended the poultice, and as it touched the body, it shone and left the skin unmarred, as if there had been nothing there all along. With her, no illnesses befell the tribespeople, and all passing’s were peaceful and strictly necessary.

Eventually, she ran out of ills to cure at her tribe, and so she took to the seas, traveling from town to town, from nation to nation, never establishing herself for longer than her use demanded, as well as following closely the instructions of Death in respects to the use of her abilities.

However, as the days passed, she saw more and more suffering, and as her fame as a miraculous potioneer increased, the greater was her shame for declaring a person’s fate to be inevitable.

One day, a little boy came calling for her at the hut she was staying. He pleaded with her to save her mother, and she complied.

As she arrived at the tiny farmstead, she came across a large family, in a village ravaged with plague. The father had already perished, and the mother was gravely ill. Her children and the elderly that they cared for, hurdled around her bed, with no other option but to pray for her recovery.

When the healer opened her bottle, alas, there was Death, standing next to the woman’s head.

Per their agreement, she was obliged to take a step back and declare the woman to be beyond treatment, but she knew she was responsible for a large family, that would not be able to withstand the seasons if not with her labour.

How could she not at least try?

So, she bends the poultice and touches the infected chest of the patient. Death shrieks and leaves, and so the woman rises once more, completely cured.

At night, the healer returns to her hut. As she passes through the forest, the moon darkens and a shadow appears on the side of the road.

“You have betrayed me.” Death said. “Cursed be you, wretched woman, for wasting the gift I gave you.”

“You desire to kill, not only a woman, but her family and children.” The healer argued. “I saved not her life, but the lives of those that depend on her.”

“All that is born must die. It is just.”

“Yet, not all must die together.”

“They all have their time, yes, and you violated it. It is fair, it is equal, for that woman’s life is worth as much as any other, of singles and of barren.” The shadow declared. “Should you steal another soul from me, you shall pay with yours.”

For a season, the healer heeded to her godparent’s words, healing those who could and letting those who could not pass into the darkness.

Soon, she found herself in a major port city. There was word in the street that the prince, a man taken for being fair and kind to his people, was at the edge of life, due to an attack by a firebender.

She walked to the palace and offered her services. Her fame preceded her, and she was taken to the prince’s uncle, who bowed in reverence.

“It is nothing short of a blessing to have you grant your time to us, milady.” He said. “My nephew is unmaried. Should you be able to heal him, he shall make you a princess.”

The healer asked to see the patient. She was taken by the nobleman to the highest chamber on the highest tower in the city, where laid the prince.

As she sees him, even covered in blood and bandages, the healer cannot fathom such beauty, from the amber eyes to the fair skin and taut figure.

So hypnotized, she opens the canteen and does not realize Death standing at the headboard.

The poultice is bent, and it touches the prince’s skin as a love’s kiss. His scars are washed away and his blood is replenished. Air circulates deeply into his lungs and life is anew in his eyes.

For a moment, there is only quietness. The two look into each other’s eyes.

Before any word could be spoken, however, a shadow overtakes the room, and a hand pulls the healer away.

The last thing she ever saw was the amber in his eyes, and then nothing more.


End file.
